Can't Stop
by Sigma Creations
Summary: Sequel to my fic, A Close Call, set during 5.05 with a different outcome. Some dialogue has been borrowed from Spooks, as have the characters, but the rest is my own work. Reviews are very much appreciated as always. Hope you enjoy. Cheers, S.C.
1. Chapter 1

**Yet another story found practically complete on my computer. Not very original, but hopefully enjoyable anyway.**

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"There's nothing on it," he murmurs, holding the note up to the light streaming in through the conservatory windows.

"Are you sure? It has the feel of a classic drop," she insists.

"That's the trouble with spies, always looking for meaning in everything," he smiles, turning towards her and walking up to her. His eyes soften and he asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she nods, not really feeling all right at all, but putting on a brave face. This is work after all. She called him because she thought the man had been trying to tell her something, not to take comfort from him and his presence in her home. She wonders briefly if she'll ever have the courage to invite him here one day just to have a cup of tea and a chat rather than for work.

"Are you certain?" he insists.

"It's silly, I know," she replies, looking down at her hands as she realises that he can see straight through the brave face she's putting on. Besides, who's she kidding? She didn't ask him here just for work; not really. "It's just a stranger but," she stammers, "I just can't... quite get the _image_ out of my mind, you know?" She looks up at him and then away. "It all happened so quickly and I'm..." she sighs helplessly. "Oh, God... Sorry," she apologises, realising that she's losing it a little.

He lifts his arm then as if to pull her into his embrace, but thinks better of it half way through the motion. It's not as if he hasn't hugged her before, that one beautiful, wonderful hug when he'd brought her home after they'd survived George Mathis, but she called him here as her boss, and so... but then she leans towards him slightly and he makes up his mind to take the plunge and risk her disapproval by slipping his hand off her shoulder and gently pulling her into his arms.

She clings to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and taking deep breaths, inhaling his strong, masculine, comforting scent as she struggles to fight the tears that want to spill from her eyes, but as his hands begin to slide smoothly up and down her back, a few manage to escape her tight hold on them and slide down her cheeks onto his coat. She lets him hold her only for a few moments before she pulls back, murmuring an apology.

He wants to pull her back into his arms and kiss away her tears, but he can't. After their moment several weeks ago, in this very house, when she'd kissed him and promised to try to be brave, he'd promised himself that he won't pressure her into a relationship before she's ready. It is enough for him to know that she wants him, she wants _them_ , and he hopes that, with time and much patience on his part, she'll come to him in the end. And though there are times like the one at the hotel last week and this one right now when he finds it incredibly hard to keep his distance, he knows it'll be worth it in the end. So he just smiles down at her and answers, "Sweet tea, that's what you need." And as he turns away to make it, all she can think is that what she really needs is for him to stay with her, to hold her, to kiss her, to love her, and to never let her go. But the moment has passed and they're back in work mode.


	2. Chapter 2

Mick Maudsley and his link to the Cotterdam fire cover-up keep them very busy for the rest of the day, but despite the apparent neat resolution to the problem that is presented with their discovery of Zakir Abdul, Ruth doesn't quite buy it. Her gut tells her that they're missing something and she's still sure that Maudsley's tenner was a drop. So she goes to Harry, hoping to convince him that her hunch is right, but much to her disappointment and frustration, she fails; he doesn't believe her.

"I don't want you to get fixated on this," he murmurs when he's finished reiterating the conclusion they've reached based on the evidence they've found.

"Fixated?" she frowns.

"Well, no, not fixated. Sorry, that's the wrong word," he stammers. Then he turns and approaches her, his eyes softening as he says softly, "But you look exhausted, Ruth, and I'm worried about you."

"Don't be. I'm fine," she objects immediately, feeling frustrated that he won't trust her judgement and not wanting to hear the tenderness in his voice right now that's blurring the lines between boss and... whatever he is or, more accurately, would like to be - lover, partner, significant other.

"I can't help it, Ruth," he admits softly. "I always worry about you."

He holds her gaze for several moments and she gets lost in those wonderful, hazel eyes of his for the second time today, her irritation slowly dissipating.

The impulse to kiss her is overwhelming, and for the third time today, he almost gives into it before he manages to pull back from the brink. "Let me give you a lift home," he murmurs instead, breaking the spell that has them frozen in time as they gaze at each other in adoration.

"No, I'm going to go on the tube," she replies stubbornly, fighting his pull on her despite the fact that most of her desperately wants to give in to it and fall into his arms.

"Don't be such a stubborn old mule!" he says abruptly, exasperated by her insistence on doing everything the hard way.

"Mule?" she queries incredulously, almost smiling at his adorably flustered look when he realises what he's said.

"Well, I don't mean mule. It's just an expression," he mumbles, looking apologetic and so adorable that she just wants to kiss him... again. Damn him! She smiles at him instead, making him almost sigh in relief. "Please, Ruth," he adds softly, "let me take you home." It's on the tip of his tongue to add, "It wasn't so bad last time, was it?" but he checks himself in time.

"Fine," she replies somewhat forcefully, realising that she's being unnecessarily difficult when he's being incredibly sweet and considerate. "I'll get my things." And with that, she turns and leaves his office.


	3. Chapter 3

They reach her house without incident, both of them acutely aware of Harry's driver in the front seat.

"Thanks," she murmurs, smiling at Harry before moving to get out of the car.

His hand on her arm halts her progress, however, making her lift her gaze to his face again as he says, "Take the rest of the day off, Ruth. I mean it. Promise me you won't do anything related to the case today." There is steel in his gaze and it's almost as if he's read her intention to disobey his orders _again_ and go to Maudsley's house.

It's on the tip of her tongue to promise, but she can't bring herself to lie to his face like that. "I can't," she whispers instead and quickly gets out of the car.

"Ruth!" he calls as she pushes the door shut, but she ignores him and keeps moving towards her house. He sighs and several oaths escape his lips in frustration before he opens his own door, telling the driver to wait while he follows her to her house where she's busy looking for her keys inside her enormous handbag. "Ruth," he says, stopping by her side and reaching for her arm to still her motion. "I don't want you-"

"Yes, well, it really doesn't matter whether you want me to or not, Harry," she replies, her eyes flashing in anger. "I can do what I please, when I please, and without any reference to you."

He drops his hand in surprise at that, feeling a little hurt, if he's honest, by her outburst. "I know that, Ruth, and it's true as regards your personal life, but I _am_ your commanding officer and I want you to stay away from the Maudsley case tonight. We can look at it with fresh eyes in the morning."

She sighs, regretting her outburst of a moment ago and yet still feeling like she might explode with the frustration. "Look, Harry," she says eventually, "I know you have my best interests at heart and that you think I'm being... stubborn about this, but I _need_ you to trust me right now. It _felt_ like a drop. My gut is telling me that there's more to this than meets the eye and I need you to have faith in that, to have faith in _me_."

He studies her for a moment and knows she's not going to let this go. Right or wrong, with his blessing and the resources of the Grid behind her or not, she's going to pursue it. Which means that the only thing he can do to protect her is to agree, so slowly, reluctantly he nods. "All right," he says, "but on one condition." He pauses for effect and then smiles slightly as he leans in and murmurs, "If you're wrong and there is no drop, you let me take you to dinner again." He watches her carefully, gauging her reaction as surprise registers in her eyes followed by a moment of unmistakeable pleasure before she schools her face into a neutral expression. With the memory of the way her eyes lit up fractions of a second ago fresh in his mind and his heart soaring somewhere high above them, he adds, "If you're so sure about it, Ruth, then surely you have nothing to lose." And just like that, the trap is set.

He tries to hide it, but she knows he's very confident he'll win this bet; he still doesn't believe her about the drop. Well, the joke's on him. She _knows_ it's there; she just needs to find it. "Deal," she agrees, offering him her hand to shake.

He smiles at that, reaching forward and taking her hand in his, allowing her to shake it gently. "You'd better let Adam in on this then," he says.

"Our bet?" she asks innocently.

"No," he frowns, "I meant..." but he tails off as he spots the twinkle in her eye and realises she's teasing. "You'll need back up," he murmurs softly, releasing her hand and stepping back, the temptation to kiss away her satisfied smile becoming overwhelming. He turns to leave then, but her next words hold him back.

"Do I tell him everything, Harry?" she asks, but the look he gives her has her stumbling over her words to clarify, "About Maudsley."

"Yes," he nods and turns away, walking back to the car as she watches him, the look of hope, longing, desire, frustration and so many other emotions she couldn't read that he's just given her overwhelming her, and suddenly, she finds herself hoping that she's wrong about the drop so that she can have dinner with Harry again.


	4. Chapter 4

"What do we do with the information, Harry?" Adam asks.

Everyone's eyes have turned to him as they wait for his decision, but it's Ruth who says, "Clearly we have to find someone to be Fox." There's no question about exposing the torture.

"But who?" Adam demands.

"Well, it has to be someone from our section," Zaf replies thoughtfully.

There's a momentary silence as everyone considers all the members of their section who might fit the bill. "Well, clearly it would have to be Colin or Fiona," Ros declares eventually, voicing what everyone else is thinking. "They're the only ones senior enough to be part of such a plot."

"We can't use Colin," Malcolm states, his jaw set determinedly.

"Use Fiona then," Adam shrugs after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Adam-" Ruth begins, but he interrupts.

"She wouldn't have minded. In fact, she would have liked it, to be useful even after her death," he continues with conviction though the pain in his eyes is there for all to see.

Once again, however, there is an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Ruth points out gently, "I believe that she would, Adam, however, she died before this meeting is supposed to have taken place. Colin is the only one we can use unless one of us is willing to take the rap."

"We can't use Colin," Malcolm states once more.

"Malcolm-" Ruth begins, but he doesn't let her finish.

"His name would be sullied and his family will be devastated," he says with feeling, his eyes blazing at her.

"Well, this is too big to let slide," Zaf points out. "Someone has to take the fall."

"Not Colin," Malcolm glares at him.

"Then are you volunteering, Malcolm?" Ros asks. "Because there aren't many other alternatives."

An uncomfortable silence greets her words as Malcolm continues to look mutinous.

"I'll do it," Harry says suddenly. "Use me." And he gets up from the table and leaves the room while everyone looks on in stunned silence.

"This is stupid, Adam," Ruth says angrily. "We can't use Harry. If Harry goes, they'll be shipping people out of prisons to be tortured by the boat-load. He's the only one who can stand against them. This is round one in a ongoing battle. We need him to keep fighting this."

"I know, Ruth, I know," Adam sighs. "Take a break, everyone. We meet back here in an hour. See if we can find an alternative solution. I'll talk to Harry."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ruth," Adam says urgently, "I need you to talk him out of this. He's given me an hour to find another way, but he's serious about it. You're the only one who can talk some sense into him."

"Adam, I don't think-" she begins.

"This isn't the time for denying your feelings for each other, Ruth," he interrupts urgently. "We all know and we're happy for you. So go talk some sense into him before he ends up in prison and you can only see him once a week during visiting hours."

She blushes at his words, but knows he's right, so she nods and turns, knocking on Harry's door before sliding it open and stepping through, pulling it closed behind her. "Ruth," he murmurs softly.

"You can't do this, Harry," she states as she approaches his desk. "We'll find another solution. I know we will. You have to stay to keep fighting them. This isn't the end. They'll-"

"Keep trying, I know," he smiles. "Adam's already told me. But I don't see another way out of this, Ruth. Someone has to take the blame and I can't allow one of you to take the fall. It's my turn. The country will survive without me."

"Harry-" she begins, watching him walk around his desk as he speaks and stop right in front of her.

"Enough, Ruth," he murmurs. "I don't want to spend my last hour of freedom arguing with you."

"Tough," she objects even as she feels herself getting lost in his eyes, "because I'm not letting you do this."

"Not letting me?" he smiles. "I wasn't aware you had any say in the matter."

"I do," she nods, changing tact. "You need my permission."

"Permission?" he queries, raising one eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yes. You see, it would mean you'd have to cancel dinner, and I can't allow that," she stammers.

"I lost the bet, Ruth," he murmurs sadly. "You were right about the drop so there will be no second dinner date."

"Don't say that, Harry," she whispers, lifting her hand and placing it on his chest, the finality of his words making her begin to panic. "Please don't do this. I couldn't bear to lose you."

"Why?" he asks softly, his left arm slipping around her waist, his right hand covering hers and cradling it gently against his chest, his eyes searching hers, probing it seems into her very soul.

"Because I..." she pauses, swallowing uncomfortably under his intense gaze, his hands now scorching her, his left hand pressing more firmly against her lower back as if he's worried she'll try to escape.

"Why, Ruth?" he insists.

"Because I love you," she whispers, "and I can't imagine my life without you in it." And though she's expecting it, the fierceness of his kiss makes her knees go weak and she has to cling to him for support.

She doesn't hear the knock on the door and it's only vaguely that she registers Adam's voice saying, "Oh... er... sorry, but it's time for the meeting."

"We'll be right there, Adam," Harry replies, his eyes still on hers, his arms still holding her firmly pressed against him. He hears the door slide shut again and smiles down at her. She takes his breath away when she looks at him like this - her eyes alight with love and desire, her lips smiling up at him. "I love you too, Ruth," he murmurs softly. "I love you too." Then he kisses her again, a long lingering kiss, full of love and simmering passion.


	6. Chapter 6

"So," Adam says. "Thoughts?"

The silence that follows these words is telling. They have nothing, Ruth thinks in a panic, cursing herself for letting Harry distract her with kisses when she should have been looking for ways to save him.

"This is pointless," Ros declares. "It's obvious that the only way forward is to use Colin." She turns to look at Malcolm, adding, "I'm sorry, Malcolm, but it's either him or one of us, and as he's not with us any more, I rather think it's got to be him."

"This is ridiculous," Zaf declares, cutting across whatever Malcolm was going to say. "They made this person up! Can't we just prove that?"

"Not without someone else's corroboration," Adam shakes his head. "Someone who was also at the meeting."

"It's all Madsley's fault," Jo grumbles. "If he hadn't gone and killed himself, he could have just handed us the file and said he'd testify. What was the point of doing it this way? Tying our hands like this?"

"They'd have threatened his wife and children," Harry murmurs. "They're prepared to torture people. I wouldn't put anything past them."

"That still leaves us with the problem of how to bring this to light without condemning one of us to gaol," Adam says, his voice getting impatient.

"I told you, Adam," Harry begins, but he doesn't get any further before Ruth interrupts.

"Why can't we make him up?" she asks suddenly, her eyes alight with hope. "We do it all the time. He's a fictional person, so all we need is to flush the legend out a bit, back stop it and everything." She looks at them all eagerly, watching as they all consider her proposal.

"It's risky," Malcolm pipes up eventually.

"Along with most other things we do every day," Ruth counters.

"But unlike other ops, we'll be trying to fool the people who know perfectly well that agent Fox doesn't exist," Adam argues.

"Yes," Ruth insists, "but they can't tell anyone else that, can they? They'll try to prove he's fake, but they'll only have a limited amount of time in which to do it before they lose their positions, which will work to our advantage."

"But the amount of work," Malcolm begins, but Ruth doesn't let him finish.

"It's the only option we have," she declares. "You don't want us to use Colin and we can't let Harry sacrifice himself."

Everyone's silent as they digest this information. Harry can't help admiring her spirit and the decisiveness of her actions, his gaze softening a little as he looks at her, this remarkable woman who loves him. She _loves_ him!

"It's worth a try," Adam states, looking at everyone in turn until his gaze comes to rest on Harry, who nods his agreement. "Zaf, Ruth, and Jo, you're to help Malcolm set it up. Harry-"

"Stall them," he murmurs, knowing that he's the only one who can keep Mace off their backs while they construct this fictitious person.

"Right," Adam confirms. "Ros we'll need a body."

"Would Mace's do?" Ros asks sardonically, making Harry lift an eyebrow and Adam pause to look at her.

"Right, get to work everyone," he finishes and watches as they all leave the table, Harry following Ruth out the door and leaning in to whisper something in her ear that causes her to blush and turn swiftly away, only to pause a few moments later and smile shyly at him over her shoulder before hurrying after Malcolm and Zaf. He's happy for them, and yet, he can't help envying them too and missing Fiona, his heart aching for her. Why oh why hadn't she told him what she was up to? He should have been there, he should have protected her, and he'll never forgive himself for failing to do that, nor her for depriving him of the chance.


	7. Chapter 7

**And the final chapter. Apologies for the thinness of the plot, but I hope you've enjoyed all the same. Thank you all for reading and a special thanks to those of you who took the time to review. Cheers, S.C.**

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"Who was he?" she asks softly as they sit side by side on her sofa, wine glasses on the table in front of them, their thighs almost touching, their shoulders brushing comfortingly against each other.

"Military," he replies gently, gazing at her adoringly, marvelling at the fact that he's here with her, at how beautiful she is in the dim light. "Black ops from years ago."

"Is that why they didn't find him?" she questions, lifting her eyes to search his.

"Yes," he nods. "I have a contact in the army. He supplied the photos that Malcolm used. Facial recognition couldn't identify him and they never thought to dig that far back."

"And the body?" she asks.

"Unclaimed," he sighs. "We'll never know."

She nods absently, saddened to think that there are people in the world whom no one will miss, loved ones that will never be found.

"Ruth," he murmurs softly, reaching for her hand and gently caressing it with his fingertips. She looks up, noting the gentleness of his gaze, the sadness in his eyes, knowing that he too feels deeply, admiring him for all that he does, all that he is in spite of everything he's seen, everything he's had to do, day in and day out in a job that she knows eats at one's very soul. It's no coincidence that all the other spies that have been around as long as him are mostly corrupt, self-serving, or unbalanced bastards. He is so strong, so just, so loyal and true. He's wonderful and she loves him. She can't stop, and after everything that's happened recently, she no longer wants to.

"Harry," she smiles, twisting round to face him and reaching her left hand up to cup his cheek, tracing his cheekbone with her thumb as she scans his lovely, careworn face with her eyes, her senses alert, honed on him. She hears his breathing deepen, sees his gaze smoulder, feels his breath against her lips, his rough stubble against her palm, the softness of his skin under her fingertips. She smells the wine on his breath, the spiciness of his aftershave and the hint of sweat and masculine scent, a smell that is uniquely Harry. But she cannot taste him yet and finds herself wondering, wanting, craving, longing.

"I'm so glad you're safe," she says softly, "that you're here with me... and I'm _so_ glad I've found the strength to be brave." He smiles, his eyes sparkling in the dim light, his hand lifting to rest against her hip, his thumb slipping below her top and sliding gently back and forth across her skin. "Thank you for being so patient," she murmurs, her gaze dropping to his lips - such beautiful, soft lips - longing to taste them.

"Always, Ruth," he whispers, "for you, always." His eyes are warm, glowing with love, yet below the surface there is passion too, hidden, lurking in their depths, ready to be unveiled if she asks. And that, in the end, is what has given her the courage to give him a chance. The self-control he's exercised around her, the patience he's had in waiting for her, the gentleness with which he's handled her, neither pulling back nor pressing her too hard, the willingness he's shown to let her lead the way, set the pace, have control. For a man who is almost always in control in every aspect of his life, it had been this more than anything else that had convinced her of his deep regard for her. Their relationship clearly means a lot to him, means a lot to both of them, and that is why they will make it work. She believes that now.

"Will you stay?" she asks softly, uncertainly, worried that he'll reject her, not because he doesn't want her – she knows that he does, can see it in his eyes – but because she's made him very cautious with her behaviour so far.

"Would you like me to stay?" he asks, his eyes darkening, the passion in their depths rising closer to the surface. Passion for her. The thought is enough to make her giddy with anticipation.

"Yes," she whispers. "I would. Very, very much."

"Then I am all yours," he murmurs against her lips and kisses her, softly at first and then deeply, passionately, drawing her against him with his hands, his arms, his whole body, leaning back so that she falls onto him, into him, enveloping her and seducing her completely. She welcomes it, revels in it, gets lost in it and in him, finally allowing him to show her how much he feels for her, how well they fit together, how much brighter their life can be if they share it with each other.


End file.
